The Dirty Table
by HikariTenshiYamiTenshi
Summary: "You love a dirty table." UkxUs, my first Hetalia fic. Enjoy, but please do not touch, lick, stroke or mount the exhibit.


HTYT: Branched out a little bit...again.  
Yami: And apparently into some new Yaoi ground?  
HTYT: Yes...I now watch Hetalia! And currently have a love for UsUk and FrUk...  
Yami: *reading screen intently*  
HTYT: What's up, Yami?  
Yami: ...You can write more UsUk if you like.  
HTYT: Wow...I have my toughest muse's approval to write more...Anyway, this came from a quote I heard in Scrubs, and it just...called out for a oneshot between these two. Please enjoy!

XO

There were many things that Germany never expected to walk in on after a G8 conference. But this just took the cake, the scone, the pasta, the burger, the nikujagu, the bratwurst...the whole fucking lot.

XO

"Well, I was thinking, England..." America hesitated in favour of taking a sip of diet soda, "We've been hooking up every G8 conference for a long time now."

It was true. It had started many years before when America had gotten both himself and England incredibly and horrifically drunk and incidentally ended up screwing the older nation up against a shower wall. When they awoke the next morning, soaking wet and extremely hung over, they had chalked it up to the blood alcohol level and didn't talk for several months... or up until the next conference.

This time when they had hooked up, there had been a mere two glasses of wine in them before they were heavy-petting on the couch of their shared hotel suite and creating significantly purple hickeys on each other's necks.

Deciding that they should be Sex Buddies had been England's favourite idea since France had suggested he and Russia have a vodka drinking contest: The poor nation had spent several hours vomiting and crying at how much he loved every nation including 'that bastard whose leader once invaded me'; Germany had laughed off the comment, especially tickled by France's confessions of affection in his inebriated state.

So every conference, sharing the same suite together, they had decided it would be a fantastic idea to screw each other's brains clean out of their heads before they had to leave again.

England cocked an eyebrow in his direction, a smirk appearing on his face. "What did you have in mind, America?"

The smirk was mirrored on America's face before he nodded in the direction of the conference table behind them. "The thought occurred to me that we have never done it on the conference table after everyone has left."

Shock set in England's face and he shook his head briefly at the idea. "America, you realise there are moral implications? Like we would be sullying a table where important decisions about our shared nations are discussed and put in place? Not to mention-" He tapped the paper in his hands to straighten them up then set them on one of the chairs to put in his bag, "I wouldn't be able to go in this room without associating it with being incredibly aroused."

Both he and America laughed, but Arthur could see that look in America's eye...the one that told him that America wanted something...and he would do a lot to get it. "No...we can't..."

"Not even if I suggested being bottom?"

Suddenly the idea didn't seem QUITE as objectionable... England mentally slapped himself and shook his head. "No...not only is it disrespectful...we'll get the table dirty and it will be hard to explain-" England's eyes were suddenly transfixed on the younger nation, who was grinning and leaning against the table, his legs parted slightly.

America slipped back onto the conference table behind them and sat waiting, almost lying on his back at this point. "You love a dirty table..." He smirked at England, who had deep-set lust in his eyes.

In response to him lying back, England clambered up the side of the table, completely drawn to the American seducing him with his offerings and sliding closer in his desire to reach the blond and bend him into the most compromising position he could.. "God help me I do...I do love a dirty table."

XO

Germany's first clue that he shouldn't have opened the door should have been the noises, but in his head, he was sure it was just the Italian brothers having another argument with each other; it sounded very similar.

He regretted the decision to enter the room at the sight that lay before him...He had NO IDEA America could bend back that far... Germany found his head tilting to look a little closer, not sure if it was really what it looked like.

The two figures on the table froze, slowly glancing up to look at who was interrupting them, a cherry red blush staining their cheeks at they saw the sharp pale eyes scrutinising them in their compromising position on the conference table; shirts, pants and underwear discarded, and England buried within America to the point where he had been bend backwards from the pleasure.

The pair looked up at the other blond nation, the rising blush in his own cheeks starting to burn, and Germany turned around and slammed the door shut, his eyes bigger than plates of pasta and his brain imprinted with the image of the two english-fluent nations banging each other on a table.

He slowly walked away from the room, eyes still like saucers, only to bump into Japan. As the nation appeared to be walking towards the conference room, Germany grabbed him by the arm and looked him in the eyes. "Japan...if you wish to keep your sanity...don't go back into that room."

The black haired nation stared at him, wondering whether he was joking or not, but decided not to risk it, and accompanied the visibly shaken Germany back out of the building.

XO

"Shit...I told you it was a bad idea!" England hissed, mind still cloudy from the pleasure running through his stomach. "What if Germany says something to the others?"

"He won't...him and Northern Italy have been hooking up since before WW2," America reassured, rolling his hips into England's and revelling in the guttural moan that slipped from his lips, his own accompanying it. "He'd be a hypocrite...ah...if he told- oh God, England...there!"

"I didn't know tha- OH FUCK," England gasped with a smile, his eyes closing as the sensation took him over, "America...America..."

It didn't take long for them both to reach their peak, and in minutes they lay back on the now soiled conference table below them, doing something they hadn't done in a while: just hold each other.

Their agreement to be Sex Buddies had taken much of the emotion out of sex for them, but right then, it just felt right to America to lie across England's chest, stroking his collarbone and breathing in the smell of his skin. England seemed to be fine with the position, as his arms wrapped around his protege's shoulders and stroked gently at his upper back in a soothing manner. They lay in complete silence for a good ten minutes before rising, dressing both themselves and each other. "America, would..." England started, then stopped himself, grabbing his bag, "Never mind."

"What's up?" America slung his suit jacket over one shoulder, looking up with the magnificent confident smile that he normally wore. "Come on, England...you can tell me anything."

England blushed again, his stomach bubbling, but this time in a different way to before. "I just, wondered if you might want to get dinner this evening. The hotel has a fantastic restaurant." His voice sounded hopeful, and for the first time in a long time, America could see genuine nervousness in England's expression.

The younger nation walked up to England, his smile becoming smaller but somehow more powerful, and he slipped his hand hesitantly into his. "Sure."

England hadn't really expected America to say yes to the suggestion, but was pleasantly surprised that he had agreed. Their hands remained linked until they were outside, only separating at a scream coming from inside, when they felt the need to run, fast and far:

"WHAT IS IT ABOUT PEOPLE FUCKING ON OUR CONFERENCE TABLES!"

XO

HTYT: Th-th-th-th-th-that's all, folks!


End file.
